After a short hiatus....

..I am back (to save the universe).

And what spurred me on to getting back to blogging? My hatred of crocs. Which now come in a fur lined option. Dear God.

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Ok, so they're comfortable. So are your boyfriends boxers and your dads walking socks but there's no need to start wearing them in public (though if the new 'melting pot' trend is anything to go by, perhaps there is). They are hideous. They can make grown men cry, and not in the good way. A man working at Nottingham University wears them with suits. SUITS. It's all I can do not to leap out of the bus and grab them off his feet in a bid to save him from himself.
Fashion isn't about comfort. It's never been about comfort. It's about putting yourselves through all sorts of ridiculous procedures in order to look nice, and crocs do not look nice. My feet are horrifically battle scarred from years of abuse through shoes that are too big/small/pointy/flat/high (and years of ballet) but who cares, no one sees my feet anyway because they are always covered by attractive shoes. In fact, my feet have been scarred since the age of about 7, when I had my first pair of 'proper' shoes (ie, not with a t-bar, which was the sign of being a grown up. Odd then that now I eally crave those gold t-bars from primark that I missed out on). I refused to take them off even when they had become far too small for me, resulting in my toes now not quite being straight. Start em young, that's what I say.
Anyway. Crocs. It's time to pin your colours to the mast and follow the lead of Manolo over at shoeblogs in stopping this crime against fashion once and for all. Just Say No.